Gin's Story
by Karmira
Summary: Gin Ichimaru has no memory of what came before he woke up in a deserted battlefield, but he adapts quickly, still endowed with the lightning quick skills of a deadly warrior.  His life changes when he saves a woman.  No Rangiku.  Gin in medievial  Japan.


**_Update status on account_**

**Author Note: **

_This story takes place in the late phases of the Sengoku Jidai, or Warring States Period, of Japan, late 1500s. This is a period of turmoil and intrigue. Gin Ichimaru is a 'rounin', a masterless samurai. _

_There will be no Rangiku in this story. _

_This might be a stand alone story or it might have a sequel. It depends on later occurrences. For now, enjoy Gin Ichimaru without any rules holding him back. xD_

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><p><em><strong><span>Gin's Story<span>**_

_~Prologue~_

As the first hints of dawn touched the hills, a crane alighted on the still river, sending out ripples of silver across its glassy surface. The reflection in the water mirrored the mountains and mist circling their roots, changing into a soft lavender shade. A light breeze stirred the quiet landscape. Waves of grass waved in its languid dance. Half hidden by shadows and the tall silhouette of a tree, a wandering samurai, a rounin, watched dawn stretch color further. A long katana leaned against the trunk.

Gin Ichimaru lowered his eyes back to the river below him. His strange silver hair shone with the reaching sunlight and the wind stirred the trailing sleeves of his kimono. Slowly, the gold crusted on the hilltops as the hills shifted from grey to dark green. The dark sky filled with a bright pink glow.

Gin sighed as his keen ears picking up the thump of footsteps on the road above him.

"Hey, you!" A tilted smirk curling his lips, Gin turned around, not at all startled to see five warriors nearby, two pointing rusted katanas his way. "If you want to live, you will give me your money," the leader, tall with red streaks in his dusty brown hair and bloodstains on the collar of his kimono, called out. "This is our land."

"Is it?" Gin asked, voice calm. He chuckled. "I wasn't aware that lords ran around looking so dirty. You look like bandits to me."

"So what?" another one barked. "We outnumber you. Give us your gold."

"Oh come now," Gin said, turning his head back to the river. Grey mixed with indigo below. "It would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful moment, " his smile grew, "with your blood."

"Are you-are you -"

"Stop stuttering, Tama." the leader snapped. "Are you threatening us?"

"You can take it as a threat if you keep bothering me. I woke myself when it was still dark to watch this. I would be highly unhappy to miss it." Long fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade and strapped it back to his kimono. "Come back when the dawn is done."

One of the men behind him snorted. "If you want to watch it so bad, then do it when you are dead." The ring of metal being drawn echoed out. "Get him!"

Gin closed his eyes, stretching arms out in a lopsided shrug. "I warned you." The smirk morphed to a frown as he whirled, knife whistling out. It missed.

"You fool! I'm right here."

"You're never going to get us without drawing your sword," his companion shouted and slashed at the _rounin_'s arm.

Gin sidestepped one slash, blade still sheathed at his side. He drew another knife from his belt. "If you want to bleed that badly, I'll oblige." He spun around and sent another knife spinning. It nicked one of the men below the neck. The man halted, blinking. Two of his companions did the same, one glancing at the blade that had missed. Gin danced around another sword. "Last warning to live today," he called out in a sing-song tone, grinning.

A younger warrior balked. "Sir, maybe this is too much for us. Maybe we should beg forgiveness and lea-"

An elbow rammed into his face, sending him to the ground. "I'm in charge here, Tama," the leader spat. "Do as I tell you or I won't give your sisters any food." For a moment, all was still. Tama wiped blood from his mouth and drew his second blade. The leader smirked and did the same. "The knife was a lucky hit." He turned back to the ronin and grinned. "Where's your smile now, dirt? Worried now that I called your bluff? There is still time to-"

Gin's drew his katana. "Talking me to death is not an option," he noted, voice now devoid of emotion.

Tama blinked at the change. The leader growled, "Kill him n-" He raised his weapon as Gin lunged at him, barely blocking the first strike. He moved with his second blade.

Gin changed the grip on his sword, arced the blade, and disarmed the leader in one fluid movement. "Good bye," he hissed, plunging his sword into the man's stomach. He wrenched his arm back, letting blood spill over the field. Watching crimson blot out the still soft morning, he heard a crane cry out. Someone gasped. Then, a cry grew, "Whoever takes his head will become the next leader!"

Gin sighed and returned the battlefield.

**x x x x x x **

Squinting eyes watched the last traces of dawn fade from the water, now a dark blue in the sunlight. A few cranes had alighted in the distance, titling their necks in and out of the riverbed, tossing gold light outward, in their frenzy for food. A bird chortled from out from the rushes, and wind fanned out over the riverbank, resettling the silver bangs over Gin Ichimaru's eyes.

He sighed. "If you wish to live longer, I would think again about drawing your knife, Tama." He continued to observe the waterfowl arching in sinuous dances to survive.

The wounded man clutched the shallow wound on his shoulder. "It's my -m- my duty." His sword clattered in his weak grip.

Gin turned and let his azure eyes catch the youth's. "Is it really?" In the following silence, he spoke on, "We both know where the victory lies, and your leader challenged me, not you. Then again," he narrowed his eyes as his voice lowered. "He shouldn't be called your leader, should he?"

The man stumbled to his feet. "Who -who are you?"

Gin turned back to the riverside, eyes hidden once more.

**x x x x x x**

A few months ago, he had woken in a field. Numerous corpses littered the surrounding field and blood permeated the air. Hushed tattered flags rippled as crows cackled above. The unrelenting sun beat on his face.

However, looking down at himself, he found no trace of blood on him, his black kimono, a long katana, which he knew was his, beside him, sheathed. Not surprised, and rose and stared at the evidence around him. As a golden sunset crept over the dead, he picked his katana up, aware. Gin Ichimaru. That was his name and the only thing he remembered about himself.

His past lay beyond clouds of dense grey fog, flashes of a few choice colors, and a white hakama blowing in the wind. Whirling emotions simmered just below the surface of his conscience with the latter. Yet, he could not recall exactly what. Only his name, the katana, and no fear remained with him.

He felt nothing when a few men surrounded him, interrupting his thoughts, and his fingers closed on his own katana. His legs bent. A smirk formed as he moved on instinct, letting a few more pieces fill the emptiness crowding his mind. He was skilled with this blade, and as he moved for the final stroke, battle and death.

**x x x x x x**

That had been the first time he had been circled and threatened, and this last encounter wouldn't be the last.

"No one," Gin replied, flashing his smirk to the youth who had asked the question this time, "just a friendly swordsman wandering through."

"Impossible, no one -m-moves that fast with no name... only-only.."

Gin faced him. "Only what?" he sneered.

Tama croaked. "A - a demon!" he hollered before scurrying up the bank. He whirled around with one last, pale-faced look at the tall stranger, "And you have the silver hair for it too. Stay away from me. I don't want to owe you anything." He fled down the dirt path.

Behind him, Gin let the words wash over him, smirk turning solemn. From that first day, he did not pursue those who fled his blade. "I have been called that before, too."

For some reason, that word seemed to have deep meanings to him, another piece of his past.

Gin leaned his sword back against the tree and knelt by the bank, fishing a couple smoother stones from beneath the rushes. With a flick, he skipped one across the water. "Another short day begins." The next one hit the water with a watery thunk and a splash, washing down his front.

With water dripping down his hair, he tilted his head and examined the cranes, which hadn't taken off yet. He whispered a poem aloud.

_"Quiet death stills my blade._

_River's dawn ends crimson. _

_Arc __Silhouetted crane!"_

Gin turned away to continue down the road

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><p><em>The first chapter is nearly ready to put up.<em>

_I might attempt to slip in a small poem in each chapter. What do you think of that? _


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